Lee Child’s Jack Reacher in Nothing to Lose read by Dick Hill

Not since James Bond have we witnessed such a “spectacular mesomorph, built of  nothing except large quantities of bone, sinew and muscle.” Indeed, his body introduces him:

…with his shirt off  most people saw only his scars. He had a dozen minor nicks and cuts plus a dimpled 38 bullet hole in the left center of his chest and a wicked spider web of white lacerations low down on the right side of his abdomen all crisscrossed and puckered by 70 clumsy stitches done quick and dirty in a MASH unit…

There is a dreamlike quality to a story that  takes place between an emotion and the town which bears its  name, between despair and Despair.

This is the story of a jobless, homeless, carless, friendless stranger who walks into a diner and waits. And waits. The waitress never comes. After not eating, Jack is arrested for vagrancy, charged, tried, driven to the boundary, dumped in Hope and told to go away. He doesn’t.

The Chameleon’s Shadow by Minette Walters read by Simon Vance

Forget Harley Street. The latest design in shrinks is a six foot 250 pound lesbian weight lifter who runs a pub with her bosomy girlfriend, and offers bed, morning after breakfast, and laundry service. This is what the 21st century male patient wants: a powerful, intuitive M.D. who can hoist him effortlessly over her shoulder, tuck him into bed without sexual threat or expectation, wash the blood off his shirt and serve up bacon and egg for breakfast.

Such a shrink, and only such a shrink can handle what the Iraq, the national health service and the Metropolitan police have brewed in ex-Lieutenant Charles Acland, now of London, hateful and harijan: untouchable.